Happenstance
by Luna Silvereyes
Summary: Sound is visited by a wandering minstrel who ensnares the entire small populace in the spell of her voice and dance. Intruiged by the power she holds, Orochimaru summons her to him for reasons only he knows. However, the mystery surrounding the minstrel deepens and even the great Sannin himself may find himself the victim of her remaining secrets. Performance: The Highwayman


Happenstance

Luna Silvereyes

All eyes raised in curiosity.

No one had ever seen her before.

Sound was playing host to a stranger of even stranger appearance.

Located in a secluded corner of the enigmatic country, the six or seven dozen idle shinobi prepared to pass the night in the small residential section of the so-called village. Some stood quietly talking outside the homes in the low light, others sat alongside the road to serve as nightly lookouts. The dark calico masks covered many faces, narrow eyes watching her movements as she approached without caution. To the uncovered faces, the ignorant few civilians outnumbered by military force watched her curiously.

Shadows of night slowly crept across the land, bathing the buildings and trees in a cloak of darkness, a ninja's friend, and his worst enemy. Within the tiny town, the residents backed up warily as she made her way down the dirt road between the buildings. One shinobi pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and bound off across the rooftops toward one two-story building set slightly apart from the rest. There was no obvious difference about it, but this one in particular was special. When he wasn't moving from base to base, checking in on his various projects, or scoping out the neighboring Leaf village, Orochimaru could be found here, at this small building he called his temporary home. As the founding leader of Sound, most of the documents pertaining to basic village functions were kept in this building that he used as his office. Of course, everyone within the country's confines knew the truth of the mysterious Sound village, however appearances had to be kept to avoid conflict until the time was right. As such, paperwork became a tiresome bore after a while.

The silver-haired shinobi entered through the second-story window, since the first floor held virtually nothing within its walls. He stepped inside, casting his gaze around cautiously as he straightened up. As he expected, the place was virtually spotless. Every care was taken to keep things organized, lest anything important become lost. The room was spacious with a desk placed against the corner by the window and a small lamp set on the corner. A stack of paperwork yet to be taken care of sat waiting in a neat pile in the center. Shelves upon shelves of books and scrolls lined the walls, the largest library in Sound. It contained records of experiments performed, the subjects involved, and the results. Other scrolls contained extensive research on different ninjutsu. The hardcover books held valuable reference material and historical accounts written by great leaders of the past from each of the five nations. Each book and scroll had been given a spot on the shelves based on its importance to their work and the information sealed within.

In the center of the room sat a small table with three chairs to its sides. On the far opposite side of the room, a narrow bed with only a single blanket stood against the wall, placed there for the rare occasion its owner decided to sleep. Normally, he tended to simply doze off at his desk, so the blanket remained folded. This simple arrangement of furniture completed the main workspace of Sound's leader.

This same leader was currently standing motionless at one of the bookshelves, standing so still that Kabuto had completely missed him at first, something that was hard to believe since in his usual white robes, he was difficult to miss. The silver-haired shinobi fought back the shudder of terror at the realization that he'd almost startled the great sannin (a grave mistake) and cleared his throat.

Head raising ever-so-slightly, frightfully pale hands gripping the open scroll slowly rolling it shut, Orochimaru turned halfway, eying Kabuto irritably, "What is it?" he muttered.

"Lord Orochimaru," Kabuto said as calmly as he could manage, "Someone has just entered Sound,"

The sannin made a low noise at the back of his throat, possibly a thoughtful hum, though Kabuto couldn't be sure. He placed the scroll back on the shelf, taking down a book as he did and gazing at the cover before replacing it back in its place. He stepped back, a small smile gracing his lips, "Ah, so we have a visitor," he said silkily, "Excellent. Do you know anything about them?"

"She appears to be unarmed," Kabuto replied, "She's heading toward the center of the town as we speak. Shall I intercept her?"

Orochimaru turned, face illuminated in the dim light filtering through the windows. His golden eyes narrowed as he approached the window, opening it up and fixing it in place. He leaned out slightly, his long black hair falling slightly over his shoulder as he peered out.

"Hm, well well, what have we here? It appears to be a traveling minstrel," he said mirthfully.

"Pardon?" Kabuto replied.

"You might say a performer,"

Kabuto moved to the window a foot or so away from him, staring down at the road below as she finally reached the center, stopping abruptly. She stood motionless, her arm dangling at her side, the other grasping the strap of the strange case on her back. She wore a light blue cloak fastened at her collar bone with a dark blue beaded clasp. Her hair was incredibly long and burnt auburn, flowing clear down her back in silky waves, ending in slender tips. Her face was narrow and young-looking, her eyes slightly closed as she gazed ahead of her. Her mouth set in a thin line, her dark eyes scanning the growing crowd around her, she reached her other hand up to grasp the cord holding the case about her shoulders.

"What's she doing?" Kabuto wondered aloud. He glanced at the man beside him and was surprised to see an amused smirk play across his lips, "Why, I believe we're about to be treated to a performance,"

The woman below set her case on the ground, removing what appeared to be a violin. She knelt, setting the instrument in her lap and pulling out a lump of rosin and running it delicately across the hairs of the bow a few times. She set the lump back into the case and braced the violin at her chin. She ran the bow once in a slow, arcing motion down the strings, a single fluid note wafting into the air. Her fingers vibrated slightly as she drew the bow, her eyes shut in the essence of the pure sound. She set the bow down, moving the instrument back into her lap while she tuned it patiently.

Orochimaru chuckled dryly, "She must truly be skilled to keep their attention through this tediousness," he said bemusedly.

The minstrel paid the crowd no mind as she carefully tuned the violin, testing it each time until finally, she drew the bow one final time, the sweet note drifting into the air, a high pitched, pure whine that drew a smile to her face, her eyes still closed. She tapped the case's lid shut, standing up straight as she held the instrument and bow in her hands, eying the crowd blankly. She turned in a slow circle, as if to ascertain the amount of spectators she'd managed to draw. Then, she looked up into the window where Kabuto and Orochimaru stood, almost as if she'd known they were there. She looked away again and raised the violin to her chin, settling it to her shoulder as she braced the bow to the strings, her long fingers holding it perfectly still as she waited for her unseen cue.

A gentle breeze brushed through, combing through her long hair and fluttering it behind her. She drew her arm back.

The violin began its song, a series of long, slow notes, first high, then low, then high and low and then high again, the bow weaving deftly across the strings with the grace of a dragonfly's wings in its dexterity. The song was slow, mournful, but spoke of a hidden tension, a seriousness of air that seemed to take on a life of its own as she swayed in a wide circle. She reached a long, drawn-out note, tapering it off and then, eyes focused, faced the crowd as she began to sing;

"_The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees, _

_The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon the cloudy seas. _

_The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor  
And the highwayman came riding,  
Riding, riding,  
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door,"_

She accentuated her speech with a broad sweep her of her arm, a gesture to the sky, or with a mysterious glaze settling across her eyes as she gazed around at the ground surrounding her.

"_He'd a French cocked hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,  
A coat of claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin;  
They fitted with never a wrinkle; his boots were up to the thigh!  
And he rode with a jeweled twinkle,  
His pistol butts a-twinkle,  
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jeweled sky,"_

She twirled in an elegant circle, her hair waving gracefully behind her as, bow in hand, she moved to the nearest window, rapping it delicately against the closed shutters;

"_Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark innyard,  
And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred;  
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there  
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,  
Bess, the landlord's daughter,  
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair,"_

She ran a thin hand through her flowing hair, flipping it back over her narrow shoulder. She turned, her eyes narrowed almost seductively as she smiled;

_"'One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize tonight,  
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;  
Yet if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,  
Then look for me by the moonlight,  
Watch for me by the moonlight,  
I'll come to thee by the moonlight, though hell should bar the way'"_

_He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand  
But she loosened her hair i' the casement! His face burnt like a brand  
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;  
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,  
(Oh, sweet waves in the moonlight!)  
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the west._

Her frail hands grasped the violin again, resting her chin upon it and running the bow across the strings. The chorus from before resounded in the still night air, the gentle melody somewhat perkier than it had been previously as she twirled and swayed to the tune, a peaceful expression on her face as she played. The world had vanished from her eyes for the moment, so lost she'd become in the music.

Up in the window, Orochimaru cast a glance at his right hand man, an amused smirk crossing his face as he realized that Kabuto had become completely lost in the minstrel's performance, fallen under the same spell of enchantment that currently held most of Sound's population captive. He returned his gaze to the road as the minstrel's dance ceased slowly, a gentle wind caressing her features and billowing her long hair as her expression quietly morphed into seriousness. Her eyes narrowed as she turned stiffly;

"_He did not come at the dawning; he did not come at noon,  
And out of the tawny sunset, before the rise o' the moon,  
When the road was a gypsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor,  
A red-coat troop came marching,  
Marching, marching  
King George's men came marching, up to the old inn-door,"_

Her fists clenched, her teeth closed tightly as she glared straight ahead;

"_They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead,  
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;  
Two of them knelt at the casement, with muskets at their side!  
There was death at every window  
And hell at one dark window;  
For Bess could see, through the casement,  
The road that he would ride,"_

Her arms swept toward the windows of the nearest building, turning to point wide-eyed at the road she'd approached the town from. A hand clasped at her breast, shaking slightly as her expression returned to that of mistrust and anger;

"_They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest;  
They had bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!  
"now keep good watch!" And they kissed her.  
She heard the dead man say  
'Look for me by the moonlight  
Watch for me by the moonlight  
I'll come to thee by the moonlight, though hell should bar the way!'"_

_She twisted her hands behind her, but all the knots held good!  
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!  
They stretched and strained in the darkness and the hours crawled by like years!  
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,  
Cold, on the stroke of midnight,  
The tip of one finger touched it!  
The trigger at least was hers!"_

Her expression dark, she turned, her cloak billowing behind her as she shoved her way into the crowd surrounding her. The shinobi of Sound watched her, speaking not a word amongst them. She blended into the populace, the only sign of her being the bright blue cloak illuminated by the moonlight shining down. Orochimaru had to admit, if only to himself, the story was suspenseful. He found himself wishing she'd continue soon, cut the tension while it was so incredibly thick in the air. He glanced at Kabuto again. The younger man was staring at her, his face tense. Returning his gaze to the street, he watched as she stood still, eyes closed and face in the wind caressing her hair.

Suddenly, her eyes snapped open. She whirled around in the direction of the road, mouth open to speak again;

"_Tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horses' hooves ringing clear  
Tlot-tlot, in the distance! Were they deaf that they did not hear?  
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,  
The highwayman came riding,  
Riding, riding!  
The red-coats looked to their priming!  
She stood up straight and still!"_

Her expression grew intense as she faced the crowd, stalking toward a small group of younger genin who cowered slightly at her fierce eyes, much to Orochimaru' amusement;

"_Tlot in the frosty silence! Tlot, in the echoing night!  
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!  
Her eyes grew wide for a moment! She drew one last deep breath,  
Then her finger moved in the moonlight,  
Her musket shattered the moonlight,  
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him with her death..."_

She pantomimed a severe injury to her own chest, collapsing to her knees with her hair falling across her face. Her face raised to the sky, her expression pained as she slowly got to her feet, sweeping her arm in the direction of the hills;

"_He turned; he spurred to the west; he did not know she stood  
Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own red blood!  
Not till the dawn he heard it; his face grew gray to hear  
How Bess, the landlord's daughter,  
The landlord's black-eyed daughter,  
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there,"_

Her face fell to the side, gazing mournfully at the road beneath her as her eyes suddenly flamed, lashing her arm around in an arc, her expression fierce;

" _And a-back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky!  
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!  
Blood-red were the spurs i' the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat,  
When they shot him down on the highway,  
Down like a dog on the highway,  
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat..."_

Her shoulders sagged, a ragged sigh escaping her throat as she raised the violin to her chin, drawing the bow in the same, looping chorus, only this time with great sadness. A heavy blanket of gray settled on the crowd at the grim fate of the two in the story. She drew the bow in one long, agonizingly sad note, her eyes snapping open and a mysterious grin taking over her lips;

"_Still on a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,  
When the moon is a ghostly galleon, tossed upon the cloudy seas,  
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,  
A highwayman comes riding,  
Riding, riding,  
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door,"_

Without another word, she lowered her violin, moving slowly to place it within its case and snapping the lid shut. She grasped the straps and heaved it up onto her shoulder. The crowd watched as she slowly turned back the way she came, moving toward the tree cover at the edge of the town. The crowd stared after her as she began to disappear back into the trees.

Kabuto pushed away from the window with a sigh, "That was quite a story," he remarked, "I really was on the edge of my seat,"

Orochimaru hummed, his eyes narrowed in thought. He straightened up from where he'd been leaning against the wall, "Kabuto, have some of our jounin intercept her and bring her back," he said suddenly.

Kabuto jolted badly, staring at the man before him, "What? Why?" he exclaimed.

"Just do it," he replied somewhat testily, "Bring her to me when you've found her,"

Kabuto watched as Orochimaru made his way to the shelves again, facing away from him as he removed a scroll from the top shelf, unrolling it and scanning its contents. The silver-haired shinobi sighed, adjusted his glasses and bound outside onto the rooftops to carry out the bizarre orders.

/ooo/

No one expected this.

Four Sound jounin returned to the town with the minstrel corralled in the center rank. Her instrument case was battered and broken in on one side. A thin trail of blood trickled down her face from her hairline and she walked with a slight limp, her face expressionless. The Sound shinobi made no attempts to either hinder or assist her as they led her back into the town to the confused stares of everyone else. Kabuto walked in the lead, resisting the urge to glance back at their captive. She'd put up quite a fight upon ambush and managed to severely injure a fifth jounin who had been forced to retreat. Kabuto hadn't known violin strings were such deadly weapons. Her violin was nearly smashed in two, the bow completely unstrung and cracked in half inside the case.

Kabuto sighed inwardly; whatever Orochimaru wanted with this minstrel, he almost pitied her. Whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

He led her back to the building, knowing full well that the sannin was probably watching from the window. He dismissed the four standing jounin and gave her a gentle shove through the door. He led her through the empty first floor toward the stairs going up. She was eerily quiet, her face smudged with dirt and blood from the scuffle. Her cloak was slightly torn and her hair uneven. Kabuto turned to look at her and sighed heavily, "Make yourself presentable," he advised, "You're meeting our leader,"

He handed her a cloth to wipe the blood from her face. She accepted it gratefully and did as she was told, cleaning her face quickly and then running her fingers through her hair to straighten it. She pulled her arms into her cloak and nodded to him. Kabuto resumed leading her upstairs and opened the door, "Lord Orochimaru, I'm coming in," he said.

The sannin was sitting by the window, a scroll held open in his lap as he read it. His hair draped over his face, obscuring it from view. He turned his head slightly, eyes narrowed. His gaze fell on the minstrel standing behind Kabuto and he chuckled, "I see she put up a fuss," he noticed, "It's a shame; I simply wished to thank her for the enchanting performance earlier,"

He stood up, approaching the two of them slowly. He watched the minstrel curiously for a moment, but her eyes were glazed over and far away. She'd buried her mind since entering the room. It would take a bit of coaxing to bring her back out.

"Kabuto, you may leave for a while. I wish to speak to her alone,"

Kabuto cast a last nervous glance at the still form of the minstrel, wondering what on earth Orochimaru could want to talk to her about. He turned and left the room without a word, shutting the door behind him. He knew that if he tried to linger, Orochimaru would most likely either become angry or simply tell him to leave again. However, he'd seen that strange woman take out a jounin using violin strings as garrote wires with surprising skill and force. Clearly, she was someone to be wary of.

He decided to take his chances and hang around downstairs. This way he would be able to hear anything if something went wrong.

Orochimaru turned away, moving back to the shelves to return the scroll to its place.

"Why don't you sit down?" he suggested without turning around. He heard the scraping of one of the chairs at the table being pulled back and the swishing of fabric as she moved. He headed away from the shelves, approaching the table and sitting down at the side edge from her, watching her blankly. She stared straight ahead, her eyes still distant. However, as he watched, she blinked slowly and a small glimmer of the previous flame returned for a moment as she noticed his presence. She hummed, her expression weary, "So, you must be Orochimaru," she said quietly, "I've heard of you,"

"Have you, now?"

She nodded, "Of course. I received plenty of warning before entering Sound. I paid them no heed, mind you,"

She folded her hands in her lap, staring down at the table with a faraway glaze in her eyes not unlike the one she'd arrived with.

"And why not? The stories you've heard," he hissed, "Are quite true, you know. While I keep a diligent agenda, many don't particularly agree with my ideas,"

"Of course. The jounin I fought in the forest are proof enough of your intelligence," she replied, surprising him. So she could see the complexity in his creations, the complexity he'd worked so hard for so long to achieve that very few could acknowledge.

"Most unusual," she said, nodding to herself and brushing her bangs from her eyes, "Ninja such as the ones you employ. They're quite fascinating. I don't so much care to understand the actions behind them, however,"

She fixed him with an icy stare, "During my travels, the many dusty roads I walked were filled with stories of this place. It isn't an old country, but it's gained a violent reputation,"

Orochimaru sighed heavily, shrugging, "Perhaps. I find it difficult to perform my research under the suffocating eye of scrutinizing leaders. I felt this to be a wiser option for me,"

The minstrel looked away, "So you forged a new pathway, then? For what, exactly? To build stronger fighters perhaps? Or maybe you're seeking something, something hidden away from mortal eyes by whatever cruel god created this world. Something forbidden...,"

Orochimaru's golden eyes narrowed slightly at her words. He could tell from first seeing her approach that the minstrel and he shared a similar type of soul; it was difficult to explain or put into words, rather it was the type of feeling you get when you meet a kindred spirit. She was a wanderer, her time spent studying people and the world around her. Before founding Sound, Orochimaru had traversed the world, seeking the secrets of immortality that he sought so desperately. Wherever he went, he was met with opposition. With every victory and the occasional blue moon loss, his influence and power grew, as did the number of his followers. Sound finally came into being when he defeated the lord of this particular land, convincing him to allow him the right to found a village dedicated to freedom for path-seeking shinobi. Well, that was only a half-truth really. In all truth, he _was_ seeking something forbidden through his experiments.

The minstrel smirked, grinning slightly at the response she eked from him, "Oh, so I was correct?" she chimed, feigning ignorance, "So you _do_ seek immortality then. That's interesting,"

"No use hiding it," he said simply, raising a hand in a mock gesture of defeat, "After all, I haven't yet achieved complete immortality,"

"I wonder," the minstrel muttered, "What will you do when you finally reach your goal? I have heard you seek to learn all that is in this world, yet you're hunted down for it. I find this more than a little confusing to be honest,"

The sannin was taken aback slightly at the comment, "How so?"

"Knowledge is something all humans seek. It's the one gift that allows us to exist. Without knowledge of how to use Chakra and meld it into various jutsu, power wouldn't exist. Without the knowledge of how to hunt and grow food, our numbers would be drastically smaller. Furthering that, without the instinctual knowledge of how to reproduce and raise offspring, our numbers would crumble in a matter of years,"

"This is quite true," he agreed, "However, there was one incorrect point in your observation,"

"What?"

"You stated acquired knowledge and instinctive knowledge. These concepts are quite different," he said with a wry grin, "Humans could survive as a weakened species with only their instincts to guide them. However, we have the unique ability to mold our environments to our liking, to change things to better suit our lives. I search for the secrets to maintaining and even restoring life indefinitely. This is the sort of knowledge I pursue, the sort that takes decades to master. For this, I require the immortal existence that so eludes me,"

The minstrel stared at him for a while, her dark eyes devoid of obvious thought. She seemed to be considering his words to great length, tossing them in her mind to understand their meaning. She folded her hands on the table, smiling sadly at him, "I see," she said at last, "You're not evil, are you?"

Here, the sannin started badly. How had this question gotten mixed in?

"What?"

"All of the stories I heard speak of you as a heartless monster. In some ways, perhaps you are. However, I don't believe that anything is truly evil in this world. Everyone has a reason and a purpose for doing the things they choose to do. I don't understand yours and perhaps I never will. It may be something going back deep into your past, some event that scarred you beyond all recognition. Many so-called villains are actually just misunderstood and scorned by their peers. Not only have I seen this happen many times, but I've received the same title on occasion for the songs I sing. To be different is to be misunderstood. It's natural,"

She looked away, cradling her chin atop her hand as she continued, "Your ambition to, as you put it, 'maintain and restore life indefinitely' will undoubtedly cause people to mistrust you, despite your intentions,"

The minstrel didn't need to look at the sannin to know the effect her words had on him. His fist clenched on the table, his knuckles going even whiter if that were possible. He was starting to regret his desire to speak with this kindred spirit he'd sensed. She was forcing his mind to dredge up memories long since buried.

"Since you seem to understand my logic so well," he hissed, successfully keeping his composure as he eyed her, "Perhaps you'll enlighten me as to your own ambitions,"

"I have none to give," she replied cryptically, "I've lived longer than I care to and caused more than enough misery in my own time. I choose to spend my waning years in silent meditation. I have a lot to atone for, whether I caused it directly or not. I find it a shame that the two of us didn't meet twenty or thirty years ago. Perhaps my wild ambitions could have matched yours,"

"You speak as if you know me well,"

"You do the same," she pointed out, "You're the same as me, or at least how I used to be. Then, unexpectedly, I suffered a blow to myself, not of physical bounds, but of spiritual. This wound still festers and I often find myself reliving the days when I had dreams to pursue. I believe this is why I harbored no fear of you upon entering Sound,"

Orochimaru's eyed narrowed to slits, "A foolish choice," he hissed, getting to his feet and moving to stand a short ways away from her, "If you've heard the stories, you know of my power,"

"I do," she answered, not looking at him, "And speaking with you tonight has affirmed my theories of who you really are. With this said, I wish you luck in your endeavors, though I hope they do not succeed,"

He frowned, staring down at her in confusion. She sighed, "Your goal is a hollow one. What happens when you achieve it? Who will be there to acknowledge it aside from yourself? What good will it do in the long run? And most importantly, how many lives must be forfeit to attain it?"

His face grew dark, "As many as it takes," he replied.

She hummed, turning toward the window, "I see. So then, as to the reason you ordered me to be brought back? Would it be to further the cause?"

She looked back at him. His body was swathed in shadows, his poisonous eyes nearly glowing in the darkness around him. He cast an almost predatory gaze on her as he replied, "It is as you said; we are very similar. I'm curious to see what you could be capable of. Do you yourself see your own potential?"

Her eyes flickered and she closed them, knowing what was probably coming, "I do, yes. However, all my life, I chose not to act on it. I feared I would end up as someone like you. I don't wish to break my lingering ties with my humanity, as you have,"

He vanished from view suddenly, surprising her slightly. She inhaled sharply when she felt a hand pressing firmly on her shoulder. She sighed, facing forward, "So you'd add me to the nameless multitude of statistics you've acquired over the years?" she asked quietly, folding her hands in her lap.

"It doesn't have to end up that way," he told her, his grip on her tightening, "After all, you may survive. The odds are low, but not impossible,"

She smirked dryly, a harsh chuckle escaping her throat, "One in ten, is it?" she mumbled.

"So you've heard of more than I believed,"

"I've lived a long time. My knowledge is greater than you'd expect," she answered, "Assuming I survive, I may refuse to do as you say and you'll end my life anyhow. Isn't that right?"

She cursed an involuntary shiver of fear as his other hand began to stroke her hair softly. Despite all of her preparations before entering this tiny country and knowing all the risks involved by fighting the Sound jounin, she'd never once guessed he'd personally order her capture and appearance before him. Her fists clenched as she realized that now, after so many years of worthless existence spent watching humanity's folly, she was about to become a part of that very same folly.

Made even more so by a man with the same sort of mind that she possessed herself.

"You know, my former student had the same fiery spirit that you possess. However, while hers was a blazing inferno that devours all it touches, yours is a quiet ember, comforting and gentle, but just as painful to handle,"

"You certainly have a cruel side," she bit out, "You're well aware that I stand no chance to defend myself, and yet you continue to make me suffer. If you're going to do it, then get it over with, if you don't mind," she said, frustration evident in her voice. Orochimaru gave her credit; she was perceptive. It was a moment's guessing on his part, but he believed she'd make an excellent addition to the Sound village, if given proper training. However, first he needed to make sure it would be difficult for her to leave, just as he'd done with Anko and so many other followers.

The minstrel was almost painfully aware of his intentions as he drew nearer to her. What was worse, she knew that she couldn't fight him. If he was going to brand her with the cursed seal she'd heard so much about, there wasn't a damn thing she could do. Around the same time she found herself beginning to regret ever traveling to Sound, she felt his sharp fangs pierce through the junction between her neck and shoulder. A searing flame erupted through the spot, cascading in agonizing paroxysms through her body. The dreadful shudders caused her entire body to begin to spasm unpredictably and she now understood why he held her shoulder; it was to keep her steady. Her vision blackened from the pain as she clamped her teeth shut to keep from screaming and ruining her delicate voice.

Finally, she felt it as he released her and stepped back, feeling the hot blood trickle down her neck and staining her cloak. She slumped forward slightly, eyes glazed as she watched him slowly move around to sit back down in his previous position, watching her with his chin braced against his hand on the table. His eerily pale face was expressionless as he observed the effects of the seal he'd placed on her. Her body was rigid; she was too afraid to sit up for fear the pain was intensify. She didn't take her eyes off him, as though staring at him would ease the pain somehow. She continued to shake, even as she spoke, "S-So what n-now?" she spat.

"Now we wait," he replied, unmoving, "I wonder what your odds would be,"

The minstrel's eyes narrowed, their light beginning to fade as her vision swirled sickeningly around her.

"Even if...I survive," she gasped, "What good...am I?"

"We will see," he said confidently.

"Huh," she said. However, instead of darkening, her face looked up at him with a smile, "Too bad. I've no intention of remaining. Not now, anyway,"

He raised an eyebrow in confusion at this, seconds before she finally lost her weakened balance and slumped heavily to the floor. He listened dispassionately as the warning signs of the seal failing began to appear. No longer unable to hold back, the agonized cries of the minstrel met his ears while he gazed into space, still visibly bothered by her words. He didn't even look up when the door was suddenly hurled open and Kabuto and three chuunin rushed in due to the screams. Kabuto took one look at the minstrel writhing on the floor and instantly realized what had happened. He made no move to assist her even as she finally passed out from the pain. As soon as her body stopped moving, Orochimaru caught the faint hissing breath she exhaled. He knew then that her odds had failed her. He sighed heavily and shook his head, "It would seem her spirit wasn't up to the task," he muttered almost glumly, "It's a shame,"

He stood up and moved to face the window, "Kabuto, dispose of the body," he ordered.

Kabuto was highly disturbed by this; he hadn't known at all that the sannin had intended to attempt to brand the minstrel with the cursed seal of heaven. He didn't even know what for, but then again, his master was a bit quirky when it came to selecting people as carriers. Sometimes they had no obvious potential, only hidden talents that only he seemed to see. The minstrel must have been one of those people.

He motioned for the others to take the minstrel's body outside. The one in the lead hauled her up into his arms and they left quickly. Kabuto listened to them go as he watched the snake ninja quietly. The older man was motionless, the faint moonlight framing his body almost hauntingly. Facing away, with his eerie facial features hidden, he almost resembled an elegant nobleman. It was a highly creepy look and Kabuto found himself backing away slightly. The sannin turned around at the sound of his footsteps before facing the window again, "You overheard," he stated rather than asked.

"...Um, yes," the silver-haired ninja admitted, knowing he didn't dare lie to Orochimaru, "I did. I heard some of it from downstairs,"

"You have keen ears,"

"Uh, thank you,"

"Tell me your thoughts on that woman,"

Kabuto started. This was a bit unusual. Normally Orochimaru had him gather data on his cards whenever he cared enough about someone to know that much about them.

"I found her performance enjoyable, but she seemed a little bit aloof," he admitted, "Lord Orochimaru, did you find her interesting for some reason?"

The sannin sighed, "Yes. She managed to injure one of our jounin, an impressive feat if you think about it. Skills such as hers would have made a valuable addition to our village. However, I knew that she would refuse to stay, which is why I took the risk of presenting her with the curse mark. It seems I failed this time,"

"You told her the odds," Kabuto pointed out, "You both knew the risks,"

"Perhaps my next project will be to improve those odds. I'd say seven out of ten, maybe?"

The conversation was abruptly cut off when the door suddenly slammed open, revealing one of the chuunin assigned to disposing of the minstrel's body slumped in the doorway. He was bleeding profusely from extensive injuries all over his body, his arm nearly torn off at the joint and dangling raggedly. Gasping, he stumbled inside, toppling forward as he reached for Kabuto, "I-It...," he wheezed, shakily raising a piece of parchment crumpled in his fist, "It's...the body...we tried to...burn it...,"

His body collapsed on the floor as he passed out from blood loss. Orochimaru turned from the window, a suspicious glare etched onto his face as he watched Kabuto pry the paper from the chuunin's hand. He unfolded it, doing his best to smooth it out as he handed it to Orochimaru before checking on the man's wounds. The sannin took the blood-stained parchment and held it to the dim moonlight.

"He...," Kabuto muttered in amazement, "He's dead!"

Orochimaru paid him no mind as he read what was written in the parchment.

His hands began to shake;

_So my dear Orochimaru, you thought I would simply give in and die from simple pain?Not likely. Don't forget that I earn my daily bread through my performances. I'm fairly skilled, aren't I? To convince even you that this damn mark, which still aches even now as I write this using the blood of your subordinates, could take my nearly limitless life is a feat I'd only dreamt of. Not to worry; it's doing its job. I lack the willpower to contain it forever and I'm hoping my life will have ended before it begins to overpower me. Should this occur before I die, then you and I shall meet again. You may yet learn the price of the path you've chosen to walk and I shall be your guiding light. May our paths cross again under more favorable circumstances. By the way, I don't believe I ever told you my name. _

_ ~Yaobikuni_

Kabuto watched as his master's expression turned to one mixed of rage and confusion, and then to amazement. He approached cautiously and glanced at the parchment, catching only a word here and there at the angle at which he held it. He also caught sight of the name and his eyes narrowed, "'Yaobikuni'?" he repeated.

Orochimaru struggled to remain composed as he realized exactly what this situation meant. His hand clenched the parchment angrily, gritting his teeth as he sighed raggedly, "Oh, our paths will cross again," he whispered mostly to himself.

He froze suddenly as he heard it. Wafting in through the window, he heard it once more; the unmistakable sound of the minstrel's voice floating across the trees and into the endless sky. He listened as it drifted further and further away, singing that same haunting melody;

"_Still on a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,  
When the moon is a ghostly galleon, tossed upon the cloudy seas,  
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,  
A highwayman comes riding,  
Riding, riding,  
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door,"_

_A/N: _This was a random little idea that came to me as I was listening to Loreena McKennitt's version of the song, _The Highwayman_ while watching the local softball team the other night. While I'm not sure as to the purpose of this particular story, the song itself is amazing to listen to and possibly one of the best versions of it out there. If you haven't heard it, definitely check her version out, as well as other songs she's done such as _The Mummer's Dance_, and _Skellig. _


End file.
